What You Do in the Dark
by Justice Tokidoki
Summary: He knows me; he knows exactly how to talk to me, how to kiss me, and how to... how to hurt me. I can't fight it anymore, and I don't want to. I swore I would protect him. That promise won't change... even if it kills me. {AU, Dark romance, Rating may change}
1. Prologue

_So . . . I can't get this idea out of my head. It's been bothering me for weeks and after writing a few scenes I just have to see what others think of it. I've been wanting to do a story that focuses on Roxas/Namine. Hope I don't disappoint!_

_Disclaimer: Don't own KH . . . been that way for a while. Don't rub it in, please. _

_Warnings: This story will get more graphic, mainly when it comes to violence. The rating may change, but it's going to take some time before we get to that part. No need to worry yet!_

* * *

**"He knows me; he knows exactly how to talk to me, how to kiss me, and how to... how to hurt me. I can't fight it anymore, and I don't want to. I swore I would protect him. That promise won't change... even if it kills me." ~Namine**

**. . .**

**What You Do in the Dark**

**. . .**

**~Prologue~**

I remember that dreadful day when all hope seemed lost. The sky wanted to cave in on itself; Thunder gave way to lightning and then it happened in reverse. There were never-ending cycles of rain, the sky was wailing. My emotions defined me, they ruled me fear and loneliness . . . that was all that mattered.

But he knew what to say. He always did.

"What do you want for your birthday, Nami?" he asked. His voice was soothing and calm, even by twelve-year-old standards. The storm didn't bother him. But even if it did, he wouldn't show it.

All I could think was, _my birthday already passed_. I frowned. "I . . . I don't know. It's too far away," I replied with a shudder as another blast of thunder had me rocking on my heels.

Immediately his hands intertwined around me and he rubbed my back, making circular motions with his fingers. "Just think of something happy. I don't want you to cry."

There was nothing that I wanted more than to find that one happy memory and push the fear away. The rain was attacking the windows mercilessly, their icy fingers clawing at the glass. My mind brought in the nightmares. I was imagining the lightning striking the roof repeatedly. In my mind's eye I saw the raindrops drown me, hitting my skin with enough force to make me bleed. The thunder was laughter, and my screams were merely a shadow compared to the sound that sent chills down my spine.

What came after the horrid images is no surprise. I would break down, break down in front of the boy I had sworn to protect before I could even walk. A boy who still had the heart to try the impossible. Why would he try to comfort me? Why save me when he still didn't know how to smile (how to feel)?

The tears came then, the first sign that I had lost. "Roxas, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." I couldn't stop saying it. Those words would have to make up for my cowardly thoughts, shaking chest, and heavy sobs.

The tears he didn't want to see, the action he hated the most, didn't stop him from wiping away the moisture from my face. Deep down I knew he wouldn't leave, wouldn't let me succumb to the storm alone. I could feel the tension in his arms and skinny frame. Soon he was shaking, but not from fear. Never fear.

My second thunder storm. The experience was as painful as the last, with one exception. Roxas changed that day. Neither of us saw it coming, and neither of us knew how to handle it as we got older. It's hard to pinpoint certain mistakes, how certain emotions can build up and grow because of one event.

It's different for everyone and requires a lot of strength to find those flaws. Looking back has never done me much good, but it's all I have left. Right now the past is my trump card, my safety net. I may be desperate, and I know I'm still weak, but I can't deny what's been in my heart all this time.

The day of the second storm is how this all started. It's the day I made the biggest mistake of my life; The day I fell in love with Roxas was the first step towards the confession that would destroy us both.


	2. Talk to Me

_And . . . CHAPTER ONE! _

_I was surprised by the amount of feedback I got for the prologue. Thanks a lot you guys. :) It's more encouraging than you know!_

_Whenever you have any questions or concerns feel free to shout them out! I'll make sure to take them all into consideration. _

_Well, on with the show!_

* * *

**"So, you say it started when you were twelve?"**

**"Actually, I should backtrack. We knew each other long before then."**

**"I see. So, before the second storm."**

**"It was while we were in elementary. That was when he spoke to me for the first time."**

**~Therapist and Namine**

**. . . **

**What You Do in the Dark**

**. . .**

**~Talk to Me~**

The first step always involves communication. My mom drilled this into me countless times. I could repeat her instructions in my head with my eyes closed while walking backwards on the tail end of our picket fence (my exceptional balance didn't appease my father, unfortunately).

"Just smile and greet everyone with respect and love. A little kindness can change somebody's day." The skin at the corner of her eyes would crinkle as she smiled, a display that never failed to receive a warm response back.

I giggled before pulling my backpack tightly against my stomach. I moved back and forth on my tiptoes, leading my body into an interesting set of positions; One second I was hopping, the next I was skipping in place. My excitement filled my small hyperactive self with a moderate amount of adrenaline. This time I was courageous enough to ask a question I knew was forbidden.

"What about Roxas? When can I talk to him?"

The light dimmed in my mom's eyes. I was too distracted by her forced smile to notice it. "Namine, sweetie, you know the answer to that." She bent down in front of me. "He'll share more when he's ready. In the meantime, you need to look after him so that you'll be right there when he needs you."

I looked away, staring at the house next to us from the window. "I don't think he likes me. I waved at him but he didn't wave back. It's hard to protect someone who doesn't talk. How will I know when he's hurt?" I pushed my bottom lip out, looking up towards the ceiling. "He's weird. Maybe that lady with the glowing ball was wrong." It hadn't been long since my last visit with our personal . . . healer of sorts. Even if she was supposed to help, I always left her place feeling creeped out.

Mom laughed, patting my head. "You will understand more as you get older."

I snorted. "Five is old!" I stretched my hands up. "See? I'm ready now. I have to become Roxas' friend before it's too late!"

"Too late?" She tilted her head. It was another instance, one of many, where I missed the warning in her voice. Her face had changed into that sad shape I hated. It always made me nervous. "There's plenty of time. No one's moving or anything."

I frowned, shaking my head. "No, he'll slip away. I saw it last night."

"You saw that in your dream?"

"Yes! So, I'm going to say something to him today," I said quickly, rubbing my hands together.

"Namine, you remember what I told you about your dreams? You have to let me know immediately so I can give you your medicine," was my mom's worried reply.

I swallowed, nodding, nearly crossing my fingers behind my back unconsciously. "I know." _But I want to keep the dream_. I sighed. "I don't like medicine."

"Yes, but if you don't your head will hurt later." Her smile was full of pity now.

I looked away, ashamed of the lie I had created. It took a lot back then for me to lie to my parents (unlike now). The guilt would drag me down to the point that the only way my body could respond was through illness. But I have my stubborn moments and they happened to be connected to the one person I felt I knew, even without the voice to match his blank face.

It's hard when you've seen someone repeatedly the moment you were born only for that person to ignore you in real life. But it didn't deter me. Determined and optimistic, I had high hopes. It was like Roxas was the amnesiac prince, and I was his warrior princess ready to wake him with a kiss.

My mom had a few options. She could have called my father down to punish me. She could have forced me to take the pill. She had a chance to set me straight and enforce more rules to combat my rebellion.

I like to think she wanted something different for me (or maybe in the end it was the same thing I wanted). She was the opposite of my father. She chose hope whereas my dad chose security. She believed in genuine connections, a view that clashed with my dad's hermit tendencies.

I can only guess. I try my hardest to preserve as much of her as I can in me; I have to because that's what I need right now. I need the bravery to defy tradition, I need the guts to stand up to my father. I need the same strength she used to let me go that day, to hope in the vision I had for the future, even if that method involved chaos in its wake.

Now more than ever I need her wisdom. But all I have is the past, stuck recycling old events in my head that I know I can never change.

* * *

It took three weeks for me to get a response. I think it scared him at first. The strange, harmless girl in white (always white) had changed from waving to following him around, asking him countless questions that he probably never even thought about.

"Hey, Roxas. I like your shirt. Is that your favorite color?"

"The park was scary for me at first. But now I like playing there. You could too if you try."

"You know, I always have a lot of pencils. Next time yours break you can use mine."

"Your hair is weird. Do you put something in it? I have boring hair. It only looks weird when it's wet . . . and I don't like it when it's wet."

And it continued. I rambled on and on, sitting next to him during recess. He would eat and stare at the table. Sometimes I'd catch a frown when I switched from talking to asking him questions. But it never lasted long. Usually it was the same blank look.

I didn't mind. "Aww, we have to go back inside." I rolled my eyes and groaned dramatically while shifting my legs over the bench.

Roxas sighed. His exhale sounded like a wave crashing against the shore, as if he had been holding his breath for a long period of time. He then turned towards me, vivid blue eyes piercing me through my face straight past my skull. I almost gasped. I felt my body heat rise as he continued staring. _This is the first time he's ever looked at me._ "That's rude," I mumbled, shyness softening my voice for the first time in front of him.

He blinked a few times before pushing his lunch box toward me. The moment I touched it he jumped up and ran, feet sending pebbles flying. I looked down at the lunchbox. Unlike the colorful patterns and cartoon characters I saw on everyone else's box, his was blank. _Same box, same face_, I thought before opening it.

A lone piece of paper lay in the middle, black words catching my eyes inside the rusted void. I took the note out and put the box in my backpack. When I reached the classroom I tried to return the lunchbox to Roxas. Before I could open my backpack the teacher screeches at me to stand in the corner. Most people laughed as I struggled to copy "I will not be late" on our infamous blackboard. The only reason I got through it was Roxas' blank face. Whenever someone teased me I would look back at him, see him stare back, and then I could continue writing.

I kept the rusted lunchbox and twitched impatiently when my mom picked me up that day. I didn't greet or hug her. Instead, I lifted up the note, trying my hardest to show her how important it was. After a few months in school I was going to be able to match an imaginary voice with words from the source.

I watched as she skimmed over the paper, watched as the curious smile disappeared and turned into a frown. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, then faced me. "It says 'don't talk to me.'"

I opened my mouth in shock, eyes widening. I then grabbed the note, shaking my head furiously as I ripped it to shreds. The sobs came and I closed my eyes as warm hands held me close.


	3. Contact

_Back! I really wanted to get this out to you all on Monday, but time ended up forsaking me for other glorious events. Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy!_

_So, I'm curious. What type of monster/supernatural entity do you think Roxas is? Go ahead and guess, I'd like to see if anyone gets it right (one of you can't, you know who you are XD)._

_Good luck and I hope everyone's week goes well! I'm going to need all the luck I can get._

* * *

**"It's like . . . every time I picture a face it's that one face. Over and over . . . just one face. When I was younger it wasn't a big deal, but now? Now things are real, now I can't take back what I did. Don't you get how frustrating that is? Wouldn't you hate to be constantly reminded of what you can't have?" ~Roxas**

**. . . **

**What You Do in the Dark**

**. . . **

**~Contact~**

The next two weeks were hard for me.

After Roxas' indirect rejection I was left cradling my cracked heart as my Mom drove me home. Dad had a few choice words to say about me skipping out on my medicine. I was swiftly grounded and placed under figurative house arrest. If it hadn't been for Mom he probably would have kept me out of school during that time too, but they both decided my social development weighed higher than the dangers Roxas represented.

Something was always off whenever Roxas was concerned. Back then I didn't know much, only that his name was generally whispered in either a worried or forced tone whenever my parents were together. For Mom, Roxas was someone to help. For Dad, Roxas was someone to approach only as a last resort. I always wonder how things would have been if they had just told me the truth about what Roxas was at the start.

But I guess that's asking too much. They weren't any closer to discovering the truth in our connection than I am now . . . and these connections are only the surface of the mystery. I have to dig deeper.

But where to start? And . . . when Roxas finds me . . . how long will he wait to act?

* * *

Two rough weeks. One whole year in a five-year-old's head. At least, that's what it felt like for me.

Being grounded wasn't the problem. Contrary to what most people thought, I actually got in trouble a lot. In many ways, my relationship with my father was strained since birth. I'm not sure what it was, what fundamental difference kept us from enjoying each other's company. Even after Mom . . . disappeared, it's not like that tension went away. Subtle, hidden maybe, but never gone.

No. I was used to being in trouble. What made me feel more worse than anything was Roxas' stares.

It was different from when he had ignored me. He wrote, "don't talk to me", but that didn't stop me from taking a glance every once and a while. Every time he would catch me doing it, and he would stare back and I'd feel . . . sick.

In his eyes there wasn't any sign of anger, emotion. But my body would react. I couldn't move. The longer he stared the heavier I felt. The extra weight would start at my fingers then crawl up into my hand. I would struggle to move it, try to look at it to see what was blocking my fingers, but his stare kept my eyes in place. The heavy feelings would settle in my throat and my heart beat would rise. Beating harshly, fast, against my chest. The pounding made me twitch in place, pressuring my lungs.

All this . . . just from one glance. Fifteen seconds, thirty at best, and then I would have trouble breathing.

But it never got to that point. Just before my breath would slip away he'd blink then turn his head down, mouth settling back into a familiar frown. I'd gasp and cough dramatically (bringing in a few stares, I was known for breathing loudly when I was scared).

This happened once, sometimes twice a day. Each time I was able to stare a little longer, withstand his gaze for a few extra seconds before I'd hyperventilate. He'd always look away before I could lose it, and then after five seconds of me catching my breath the questions would rear their ugly heads.

_Why does he keep staring? What did I do wrong? He told me not to talk to him. What do I do?_

I withstood the barrage of ideas and confusion until I felt like I would burst. One day I just decided to move. My legs were moving at the speed of a lonely garden gnome, but with every intake of breath it became easier. With my eyes on the ground, I made my way around our disgruntled playground. The soil was moist during this time, rich with nutrients from the morning Spring rains. I noticed insects and worms twisting about in the dirt, trying to calm my nerves.

_Don't look up. Don't look at his face yet. _I let out a small whine in the back of my throat. He was staring at me now, I could feel it. The closer I got to him the less insects I found. The wet ground was drier by his bench. I shuddered, touching the edge of the table and sitting across from him.

The heaviness wasn't as strong as it was before, but it still settled around me. Lingering dots of black and grey danced in the corner of my vision. I exhaled slowly, rubbing my arm.

I was so nervous. I had spent days talking to him before, trying to nudge a reaction out of him until he shoved that all away with four words. I had thought I would be ready, but instead of saying what I wanted to say I was cowering in his presence instead. The shame hurt more than the heaviness.

I shook my head, preparing to stand when cold fingers brushed against my wrist. I couldn't stop from looking up and my eyes immediately zero in on his. He was standing next to me, his eyebrows slightly turned down. His bottom lip quivers just for an instant, and then his facial expression returns to its empty base. "Are you going to run away?" he asked.

The air from his mouth crashed against my ear and I felt a shiver go down my spine. I shifted away from him, staring at him from a distance. He blinked once, taking a step back. He opened his mouth and did the impossible again. "You're scared."

I frowned, crossing my arms. His voice was . . . different. Something about it didn't seem right, and for a split second I forgot about the sick feelings that came with his stares. "I'm not scared. You're the one whose scared."

He cocked his head to the side, a very thin smile on his lips. It looked fake, like he was trying too hard to show a certain side of himself. "I'm never scared." The confidence in that sentence, the absolute faith in it, shocked me. After a few seconds I realized what was bothering me.

_His face is blank. But his voice . . . His voice . . . It's not happy or sad. It's just . . . really nice to listen to. _I swallowed, blushing. I couldn't say that to him. "If you're not scared, why were you staring at me?"

"Cause you did." He shrugged.

I frowned. "You said we couldn't talk."

He blinked once. "No I didn't."

"You did!"

"No."

I pouted, turning away and sighing with relief as my body relaxed a little, no longer tied by his eyes. "You're a liar."

"Well, you're mean."

I turned to protest but when I saw his face the complaint died on my lips. His eyebrows were raised slightly and he was frowning. But that wasn't what stopped me. A single tear rolled down his cheek, dripping from his chin. He blinked and wiped it away, along with any other lingering emotions before I could name them. When he spoke only the words stung, not his tone. "I wasn't ready. You left before I was ready."

_What's does that mean?_ I tapped the table with my restless fingers. "Then . . . can we be friends now?"

"I'm not supposed to have friends."

I gasped and my eyes widened. It didn't make any sense to me, but what mattered was the sadness leaking out of his response. A question nearly made it past my mouth before my gaze stopped near his hands. He gripped the table tightly, nails crushing deeply into the wood, creating an eerie scratching sound so horrid that I had to cover my own ears.

While I jumped back he turned so that his back faced me. His posture was rigid and when he spoke I could barely hear him. "I need you to go now."

"But . . . you can't just . . . " I tried to force myself to say more but my voice kept cracking. Instead, I grabbed his hand. His palms were sweaty and cold, sending a single shiver up my arm before the feeling in my hand was sucked out completely. My body slumped forward as my head crashed lightly against his shoulder. I could still breathe, thankfully, but it was harder than before. Meanwhile my heart pounded rapidly in my chest. _Too close, too close,_ it seemed to scream. "R-Roxas?"

He stood still against me for a long moment. Then in one fluid motion he shoved me away from him and off the bench. I flew from the seat, staring at the sky with heavy lids threatening to shut the world out. The weight was back. I couldn't get up. I blinked and my vision blurred as he stared down at me. Soft, apathetic words filtered in and out of my ears, settling just before I passed out.

"I didn't write the letter."


	4. Preparation

_It was quite entertaining to see all the different theories. The reveal will come soon, so you won't have too long to wait on that. _

_I was planning on releasing this a bit sooner but the ending was giving me problems. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy nevertheless. Thanks for the reviews/comments! They help more than you know!_

_Justice T. _

* * *

**_"I mean, if you think you can handle it I guess it's okay. It's going to hurt . . . but that's normal. We'll just keep practicing what we're doing now. We'll keep training and pushing our limits until the pain doesn't bother us anymore."_ ~Sora (age 15)**

**. . .**

**What**** You ****Do**** in the ****Dark**

**. . .**

**~Preparation~**

Voices floated around me. I couldn't discern the owner for all of them but the comfort was instantaneous. The invisible weights on my body were starting to disappear, and when I blinked a blurry brown and peach blob filtered in front of my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak but all that came out was a croaking sound.

"Shhhhh, it's okay, baby. Don't speak." Big fingers stroked my bangs, my eyelids, and my vision instantly cleared away.

I gasped, squinting to make sure what I was seeing was real. He gave me a big smile. "Don't strain yourself. Just close your eyes and relax."

"Daddy?" I blinked repeatedly.

"It's okay. You'll be out of here soon." He gave me another smile and rubbed my arms a little. I barely noticed the numbness going away, it was as if the pain was flowing out of my arms and into his fingers. I stared at his hand and he froze. "What's wrong?"

The tears came unwillingly and I kept blinking. My throat was still clogged, but even if I had been able to speak I wouldn't have attempted even a whisper. Instead, I slowly lifted up my hands, shaking.

He knew what I wanted. There was something in his eyes, something I never saw before. It was like he was seeing me for the first time, like I had just come into the world instead of through an unnatural coma. He leaned down and swooped me into his arms, hugging me close. I continued to cry and gripped him as tightly as I could. It was the first time I ever cried out of happiness.

The rest of the pain, any lingering unpleasant sensations, disappeared. For an instant I thought I saw something black travel up his fingers but it was gone before I could question it.

He rubbed my back and sat on the bed, still holding me as if I would be lost the second I slipped from his grasp.

* * *

"I can't believe it. She's made a full recovery."

My dad nodded, eyes narrowed at the clipboard my doctor was examining. "All her vitals are stable?"

"Stable indeed. Immune system is stronger than most kids I've seen. Why, just an hour ago she was showing the signs of a paraplegic. It's nothing short of a miracle."

I stared, watching in awe as my dad's lips pulled back into a wide grin. Everything the doctor said from that point on went through me. I twitched, gripping his hand tightly. All that mattered was that we were touching. I wanted it to last as long as possible. He squeezed me back lightly and I felt a new rush of energy shoot through my spine. I twitched again and smiled.

"Just sign here and here."

"Right." My Dad nudged me, looking me directly in the eyes. "Do you need to go to the restroom?"

I shook my head, clutching him tighter.

He placed a single hand on his hip, giving me a no-nonsense look before cocking his head towards the restroom. I sighed and ran in, not even ashamed for being caught in the lie. I finished quickly and went right back to his hand, fingers transforming back into a white vice. Normally, behavior like this would probably send him over the rails. But instead he just smiled. "Come on."

It was almost comical when we reached the car. We both just stared at it, hand in hand, wondering how this was going to work. Well, I was wondering how it would work. Dad was probably starting to get a little exasperated by my antics. "Namine, you can't sit in the front yet. You know that."

My eyes shot up timidly. My hands shook.

He looked a little sad now, smile faltering. "It's just for the car ride."

I swallowed. "My hand is stuck," I mumbled.

He grinned, plucking each finger off one by one. "You sound so much like your mother right now." There was a certain edge to his voice that I didn't catch.

Instead I climbed into the car, staring down at my lap. The energy burst from before drifted away as quickly as wind-blown grains of sand. Now, embarrassment made me fidget.

He was silent for most of the car ride, staring straight ahead. When he spoke the soft tone he had used was replaced by his usual one for me, strict and business-like. "How do you feel?"

"F-fine."

"If there's anything, anything at all, let me know immediately. Okay?"

"Okay."

He reached out, lightly ruffling my hair. I leaned into his touch and instantly felt sad once he moved his hand away. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I'm in trouble?" I wilted internally. I didn't want to spend quality time talking to Dad about punishments. We always talked about that.

But, as was the norm that strange day, he surprised me by laughing. It was such a hearty sound, I didn't realize I was smiling until he quieted down. "No, you're not."

I turned towards the window. "Is it a surprise?" I had almost forgotten that my birthday was coming up.

"No. Don't worry, you'll see."

This response only made me more impatient. When we got into the house I felt my shyness creeping up, prepared to act as a buffer in the conversation. Even if I wasn't in trouble, what Roxas did at school was bound to come up. And that was something I didn't want to talk about.

No. I just wanted Dad to hug me again.

He looked at me, took in the longing in my eyes, before setting the keys down on the counter and gesturing towards the couch. I walked over to it, reaching it first and sat squarely in the middle. He moved next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I leaned against him, staring at the blank TV. He sighed, rubbing my side. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, almost whispering.

"Nothing," I mumbled. There was too much going through my head, I couldn't say anything. The prominent thought that kept jabbing towards the surface was the fact that Dad was being . . . different.

It reminded me of the stories that Mom always told me as I slept. She talked a lot about when they first met. Their friendship, the gifts, and the eventual romantic dates came up often. My favorite stories were the ones when Dad comforted her when she was sad. She always said one hug from him would instantly make her feel better. He had the best hugs.

And she was right. Now that I had finally experienced it I could say it. The fact that he had never hugged me, barely even touched me, slipped away. Every troubling thought was gone. I simply sat there, content.

Dad just stayed quiet and continued to rub my side. And we stayed like that until Mom got back from work. "Sora!"

I flinched. Her voice had risen past a certain pitch, not exactly a shriek but higher than the shouting I was accustomed to. Dad simply gave me a final squeeze before removing his hand, standing up. "Yes?"

She quickly sped into the room, instantly approaching me and pulled me off the couch. She tilted my head this way and that, as if she were checking for bruises. "Are you okay?" I didn't have to see her facial expression to know she was panicking. "Are you alright?"

I gave her a single nod.

She huffed and stood, crossing her arms. "You should have called me the moment you found out she was hurt."

"Yes, I know. I panicked. She was paralyzed from the waist down. I made a split decision and I didn't want that on your mind during work."

I took a step back as my mom let out a divisive snort. "If you wanted some alone time with her, you could have said so."

"That's not why I did it, Kairi, and you know it," He refuted. His eyes were hard, black, instead of the natural blue color I had inherited.

"Of course it isn't." She looked down at me. "Namine, Dad and I are going to have a short talk. I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

I turned and headed to my room, grateful that the door shut out most of the yelling. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Whenever yelling is involved, my parents tend to lose track of time. But for them to reach that state is pretty rare, so the fact that it coincided with Roxas putting me in the hospital made me nervous. Then again, I was still confused as to what Roxas actually did.

As my head filled up with images of Roxas' face the yelling stopped. I tilted my head towards the door, timidly awaiting the conclusion of their verbal assaults. Their voices were calm now, swaying in the air like the free forming tidal waves at shore. I peeked out from behind my slightly ajar bedroom door. For an instant there was nothing, and then I heard footsteps pounding against the floor. Soft, hesitant steps.

I moved back just as my dad entered. He shut the door, leaning against it. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I whispered. I was starting to feel more antsy every time someone asked.

He looked down, his expression thoughtful. "It's very important for you to understand that Roxas is very dangerous."

I looked away, shifting my legs back and forth from on top of the bed. "Okay."

He sighed. "Namine, I'm serious. We just . . . I just want you to be safe." He sat next to me, resting a hand on my back and slowly moving it up in circles. "You understand, right?"

My back seized up upon contact and I gasped. He instantly removed his hand. "We have company. Be good." He stood up. I followed suit, shaking somewhat from his touch. His fingers had felt . . . _cold_. I frowned just as he wrapped a blindfold over my eyes. He guided me back into the living room setting me on the couch. He walked away and started talking to a man whose voice I didn't recognize.

"It's going to take time. You know that."

My dad's response was quick and sharp. "As long as she's ready, so be it. I wouldn't come to you if I wasn't serious about this."

"Right." I felt a new, heavy hand tap my shoulder. "Come on, kid. Time to go."

I tried to back away from him but my mom kept me from moving. "It won't be for long. This man is a friend of ours. You'll be completely safe. I'll pick you up for school on Monday."

"I don't want to go," is what I desperately wanted to say but all that came out of my mouth was a muffled sob. My hands rose up to pull the blindfold from my eyes but the strange man's hands kept them back.

"Trust me. You're not going to want to take that off." He ushered me towards his car. "Don't make this difficult. You're going to sit, stay still, and not say a word until I say so, got it?"

"Where . . . where are we going?" I asked.

He sucked in a breath, a hint of conflict warring within his deep voice. "He's really kept you in the dark, huh?"

I didn't know what to say, and I didn't know what he meant, so I just stood there. He let out a rough chuckle before strapping me into the seat. "Well kid, just know that after today you won't have to worry about that scary little brat making you pass out anymore."

I shuddered. "Roxas . . . "

"Hmmnn?" The man chuckled. "Did you say something?"

"His name . . . is Roxas."

That only brought in more laughter and I frowned. It clashed violently in my eardrums, making me shake. He was obviously teasing me. "Whatever you say."

He slammed the door, shutting me away from my parents, my home, and towards a new lifestyle I'd learn to adapt for years to come.


	5. What You Are

_I guess I can start this off with saying I'm sorry for such a long wait. Summer school is really kicking my butt, but beyond that this chapter gave me a lot of unforeseen problems. I can assure you that after this chapter things will be revealed at a faster pace. _

_Anyway, enjoy! _

_Justice T._

* * *

_**"This is all different from what I expected."**_

_**"I know, right? We're hunter and prey, best friends the likes of which no one has ever seen before!"**_

_**"It's nothing to laugh over."**_

_**"Awww, come on. I get enough of that at home."**_

_**"I can't. If it wasn't for this school... we would never be friends."**_

_**"Well, I guess I'm a lucky guy."**_

_**"That depends... on which one of us is the prey."**_

**~Riku (age 17) and Sora (age 15)**

* * *

**. . .**

**What**** You ****Do**** in the ****Dark**

**. . .**

* * *

**~What You Are~**

The car ride was silent except for my sobs. But soon even those drifted away and the hum of the car's engine welcomed the silence until my new caretaker roughly jerked the car to a halt. He let out a contented sigh before turning off the engine. "New recruits. Always interesting."

I didn't respond.

He laughed again. "You're a shy one, aren't ya?"

I crossed my arms. "I don't talk to strangers."

"Really?"

I kept my head bent towards my chest as my bottom lip trembled.

"Well, you just did." I felt the wind slap my arm as he opened the car door. "Alright, time to get out."

I shook my head.

"Kid, I'm sorry, but you don't have a lot of options. Just think of it this way, you'll be ahead of the game. Everyone will be struggling to cope once they enter the school, but you'll know all the secrets ahead of time."

"I don't want to do this."

"You sure?" He slowly started unraveling my blindfold while leaning forward, whispering into my ear. "Don't you want to know what Roxas is?"

I shivered. "Roxas . . . is my friend. I'll help him, no matter what."

He snickered, finally pulling the blindfold off my eyes. I squinted, unaccustomed to the glare outside, then turned towards him. What caught my eyes first was his hair. Wild, gelled up to the point where the spikes actually looked like they could impale someone, it was more red than anything I'd ever seen. Either that or it just seemed more vivid against his tight, black leather clothes. His eyes were green and shone with mischief, but there was also something red in them, an outer red ring around each iris. His mouth pulled back into a wide smirk, so wide that it seemed too big for his face.

All I could do was stare. Whereas with Roxas I felt nauseous, with this stranger I just felt . . . calm. The tension in my shoulders drained away and I stopped crying. His green eyes filled my vision, I couldn't see or do anything else. Before I could completely slip away he wrapped the blindfold around my eyes. "Sheesh, your Resistance is so weak. We have a lot of work to do."

"Huh?"

He simply pulled me out of the car, patting me on the shoulder as he guided me forward. "First of all, before we get any further, we need to establish some ground rules. Can't have you going crazy and trying to run away. Acting like that here will get you killed."

I whimpered at that but he just laughed. "Relax, I'm only kidding. Mostly. You have to be ready for everything, kid. It's the only way you'll improve." He knocked on the door. "Trust me, you'll be more helpful to your friend once you develop your Resistance."

"My . . . Resistance?"

"It's like a shield. A shield for your mind." He knocked on the door again. "And once this asshole lets us in I can get to the important stuff."

I swallowed and took a step away from him, but his grip on my shoulders was firm. I heard him breathe in, probably preparing to tell me that escape was impossible, when the front door swung open in a quick, snapping motion. "Well, this is a surprise." It was another man. His voice was cold and full of tension. It automatically made me feel nervous.

The wild man next to me laughed. "Riku, let's not do this the hard way. I think we both know it's pointless."

"I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to see your face again." The warning dragged its mangled limbs in the air, waning towards us. I clenched my dress while my teeth teared into my lower lip.

If anything, the subtle threat only made the man next to me more excited. "You really do remember everything, huh? What was that, five years ago? I've memorized the pattern, alright? You've refused me over and over . . . yet, you invite me in every time."

"Yeah, and I regret it the moment you open your mouth. I told you that I was done with this, with all of it."

I heard the sound of wood scrapping against carpet as I felt the energetic man next to me move. His body shook next to me and I heard the force of the door being shoved against something. Then, the smell of smoke filled the air.

"Dammit, Axel! What the hell are you doing?"

I took a peek, lifting the blindfold up enough so that I could see what was going on. An agitated looking Riku was glaring at the caretaker who I could finally pin a name down to. Riku's hair, a light blue that could easily be mistaken for white in this light, draped along his back and shoulders like a mop. His eyes were also green, but lighter than Axel's (with no red rings). He had on a white T-shirt and washed out blue jeans. In other words, he looked utterly ordinary.

I didn't look directly at Axel, but I didn't have to see his face to know that he was in pain. Than again, you don't think of much else when you literally see someone's leg being roasted. The clothes around the leg he had in the doorway had shriveled up, leaving only his red, cracking foot that left nothing to the imagination.

I don't know why I felt so calm seeing something that drastic at such a young age. I had gotten back from crying in the car and yet here I see an open flesh wound slowly eroding up a stranger's leg and I don't so much as flinch. A part of me wanted to run and scream, yes, but something was forcing me to stand still. Something kept me from opening my mouth. And, in a weird strange way, I knew it wasn't because of Axel. He had made me zone out before, but this was all coming from me.

But, this of course, only lasted for ten seconds. The tears came then, the one normal reaction I could count on. The rest of my body just shut down, a shaking statue in the midst of two scary men for two very different reasons.

I almost missed Axel's next few words. His voice wasn't light anymore. It reflected pain, frustration, and it was nearly guttural. "If your memory is so good then tell me this, don't I always come when there's an emergency? Have any of the people we've trained regret what we've shown them?"

Riku's face was pale. "Look . . . I told you before. I don't teach anymore. Axel, make no mistake, your kind is an abomination to me."

"I take it you're lumping Sora into this also?" Axel chuckled, but it sounded forced. The five-degree-burning scars were spreading up his leg. It had reached past his ankles and was now halfway to his knee. The smell was awful.

"Axel, get your foot out of my door."

"Did you two fight or something? Is a petty grudge what's holding us back? Really?" Axel's voice almost didn't sound human. It had gotten deeper, and every few seconds a chill inducing hiss would follow. I was finally courageous enough to take a few steps back when he spoke again. "You . . . need to get over yourself."

Riku's eyes narrowed. "You would let yourself die for this ridiculous cause. This is what the school is for, and I'm not even supposed to be a part of this. I know that now . . . and everyone has accepted what I've chosen for myself. Even Sora." His smile was grim. "Why is it that you can't get that through your thick skull?"

"Your freaking father made you a part of this, asshole!" Axel's voice rose to a higher pitch as the burning rash moved along his thigh. His foot was almost black. "You'll never be just _done_ with it. You're too important, and like it or not, some people are going to come and annoy the hell out of you because you're all some people have!"

Riku just pressed the door against Axel's shriveled leg. "Why would you need me? I'm not the only teacher around. Take the brat to someone else."

"Even if it's Sora's brat?"

Riku's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "He . . . has a kid?"

Axel grunted, nodding quickly. It was obviously getting harder for him to talk. "Yep. A girl. Who-is-behind-us-just-so-you-know," he said in a burst nearly lost among hisses and growls.

In a move too quick for my blurry vision to catch, Riku's palm struck out, sending Axel completely out of the doorway. Axel's body landed next to me and I yelled. Riku was next to me in a few long strides. He gripped my hair, shifting my face up as he stared at me. He frowned, eyes slightly sympathetic, then he let me go, muttering to himself. "Like her . . . but your eyes . . . " He frowned.

I swallowed and said nothing. Axel sat up, glaring at Riku. His burning flesh was slowly fading away, meshing into pink, newly healed skin. My jaw dropped and I felt something inside me stretch and deflate like a balloon. Their voices were indistinguishable now, filtering in and out, like hectic bees. I reached out for something, anything, before feeling the ground meet me as I welcomed my first black out.

* * *

It was the first of many times that I would inevitably pass out. Axel and Riku were more connected than I could have ever imagined. I can't say if what they did to me at this point was wrong. All I could do was learn one fundamental rule.

The darkness was my friend.

I'm not talking about your regular, everyday darkness. I'm talking about being in true darkness with no one else but yourself. I try my best to push myself back, to remember what happened during these critical moments of my life . . . the only thing I can find outside the darkness is my memories of Roxas. Just the same old dreams: Roxas was in danger (somehow). It would happen (sometime) and I would have to save him (somehow). But besides that, there was nothing. I can't find anything.

Except for one word. A . . . a title. I can remember Riku saying this, saying that this was what I am. He must have said it a few seconds before I passed out, a second before my hearing went away.

_Cambion._

One word, flawed premonitions, and a world of silent bliss. I say silent bliss . . . because that's what I hear when I think of anything after I was first taken away to see Riku. Seven years of my life are missing. I don't know how, and I don't know if it was natural or if I was cursed, but it's something I'm still trying to fix today. I've kept journals, I have various . . . abilities. I'm working to fit the pieces together and remake my history. The only problem is every time I get closer to my past I also uncover the secrets of others. There are secrets I can't have, there are secrets that can get me killed. But it's too late; I know too much.

I am a Cambion, the child of a human woman and an Incubus. If only I could leave it at that.


End file.
